Lovely Mrs Ping
by YiddleDee15243
Summary: <html><head></head>Po's dad was feeling more down than the usual emotional deviation of a rather vivid character, and the panda can't help but inspect with absolute concern. So once Po verified the origin of his father's anguish, he attempts to reconstitute the happiness that is his dad's. Using the unlikeliest of unlikely answers. In other words, find him a date. (Oh jeez).</html>


**Lovely Mrs. Ping**

**Chapter 1: The Perhaps Rather Abnormal Day**

_Perhaps_ it was just any other day, with the elated rays of the ever-present sun, a constant part of their peaceful summer-day lives, rained down in-between the mountains and blanketed the valley in it's golden-like hue. The wind, which was virtually non-existent in the sierra-fenced settlement, would be proclaimed to be "like a fleeting breeze," for the purposes of optimizing the poetic introduction of the creatively-named congregation of scattered houses. The Valley of Peace bustled in its usual cacophony of trading and business, and the Jade Palace, a jewel dedicated to the once-living Master Oogway, still remained perched on its own personal mountain, overseeing the security and well-being of their companion town, which was almost always at jeopardy. This town was nothing but a big lie; beneath the smiles and grins of the young and the old lurk the random need to decimate the population and its settlements. Despite that, however, the general populace seem appreciative of their lives, like any good-willed, optimistic society.

_Perhaps _everything seemed fine and normal when Po had decided to pay his dad a visit, wanting to accompany the homely Mr. Ping. Another box of radishes were just shipped in, and Po was courteous enough to take his time to deliver it to Mr. Ping's pleasantly named, "Dragon Warrior Noodles and Tofu." An arm wrapped around the wooden box as he rested it against his bulging stomach, casually walking down the road as he smiled smiles and nodded nods to the faces of fans and civilians.

"Look! It's the _Dragon Warrior!_" a young bunny pointed out, giving the occupied panda a little oration alongside with a few of his little friends.

Po gave a gentle smile as he walked passed them and into the busied restaurant. In it, scurried and rambled a wide variety of peoples, pointing and admiring the fragile fashionable mop hung up to the wall for the whole world to see, _eating _(mainly) as they converse over whatever it is that people converse over, and enticing and adoring the fat panda as he entered the premises.

"Look! It's the _Dragon Warrior!_" another child echoed that of familiar words.

Immediately, everyone turned their attention upon the revered protector of the Valley of Peace and began bowing, clasping their hands, paws, wings, _whatever, _together. Po, though appreciated by their unbound regard and respect, distilled an expression of _extremely slight _annoyance (all he wanted to do was visit his dad!), giving out a fake smile as he awkwardly kissed the forehead of a youthful hare. He then reeled back to an upright position from his stooped posture and arced his head around as he searched for the goose, his eyes frantically switching from side to side as he was cautious of the younglings whisking about his feet, yet watchful for the restaurant's owner.

"Dad?" he called out, switching the box of radishes from a tired hand to an unused one, dropping the former as it dangled about. "Dad?"

He squeezed himself in-between the peculiarly placed tables, obviously situated at progressively smaller intervals to covertly maximize the use of space in the restaurant. Po's stomach bulldozed through the narrow gaps as he cautiously, but still recklessly, navigated through the maze-like arrangement of wooden tables, resulting in the brief clinkings and clankings of dishes, bowls, and silverware, and the complete, watchful eye of the entirety of the customers. Even a bowl of soup dipped under the weight of Po's belly's underside. Of course, the customers were slightly disgusted, sticking out a tongue with the accompanied "gah!"

"Heh," Po said nervously, attempting to raise up his arms in apologies, though they were engaged with the lifting of the crates. "Sorry."

"Over here!" a familiar voice sounded from inside the kitchen, which immediately caught Po's attention.

Po grunted once again as he shoved himself through one final wave of obstructions before ducking his head under the doorway and into the kitchen. He turned the corner to see his... dad... chopping up vegetables at incomprehensible speeds, each piece falling perfectly into a convenient basket placed on the side, and the goose still continued the process even when his weary eyes were directed at his son.

"Hey Po!" he said, even though his voice sounded somewhat faded.

It was obvious that something wasn't right with the usually bright and colorful Mr. Ping, whose only compassion would be noodles (and his son, Po, which comes after said priority).

No, _perhaps_ not _everything _seemed fine.

It was obvious he was cooking noodles...so what was it that bothered his dad? What threatening company of raiders trumped on his webbed feet today? What enigmatic faction of assassins, whom he had probably awesome-ly defeated, had been sent to end his prestigious dynasty of noodles? What vile creature skulks across the kitchen floor and terrorized and tortured the poor goose? The panda narrowed his eyes with worry, gently stacking the box of supplies neatly on top one another and, as he finished, smacking the dust of his furry paws as he went to approach his dad.

There was a fiend in their presence, maybe, hiding among the shadows with utter secrecy. No, it can't be that epic, cool, or awesome. It was a more realistic circumstance. Po needed to know what was going on, and he knew just how to do it.

"So, um, how's it going?"

The _usual _approach. Someone in a such a downed disposition needs to be, for whatever reason, cautiously verged upon in order to dissect the inner workings of his or her emotions; this was exactly the case with the goose. Such fragility in this position would require the utmost precision in planning; one minor fault, and all would be in vain. The victim would immediately alert him or herself to conceal all sentiment, and drape itself in a blanket of deception. Or a literal blanket.

The panda was patient, and carefully watched the goose slice through the diminishing supply of vegetables with ease, his eyes following the swiftly hacking knife which cut at exact intervals in rapid succession. Then his dad opened his mouth.

"Oh, it's okay."

The _lie. "Oh, it's okay," _meant it _wasn't okay. _The natural defense of someone who's obviously desperately seeking attention with a face deliberately conveying a sense of anguish was expected; it was evident upon the goose's face, the eyes, the facial feathers, the buck. It was exaggerated, then yet again, concealed. Made to be realistic, but humorously obvious. The panda was no stranger to such a reaction. It was always prominent among the other peoples of the town, who would, on a daily basis, frown in utter sadness in the presence of the panda, hoping to seek his attention and help. He knew one response to such an automatically triggered mechanism: play along with it.

"Hm. Well, I got the new shipment of supplies for you," the panda continued, smiling somewhat nervously as he laid his fat paw against the boxes.

The panda eyes were keen, and they vigilantly scanned the goose thoroughly. A few seconds was all he needed - and a few seconds he did receive. He couldn't crack him, couldn't detect any sort of anomaly. The goose was obviously feeling down today; it was printed on his dad's face like a large sign printed "I'm feeling very sad" in big, bold characters, with a loud announcer standing strategically alongside it, yelling said message to the world as if it were some breaking news. This was a hard one, indeed. A puzzle. A challenge, _finally. _

Po quickly scrolled through his alternative options, and with the circumstances given to him, he knew that he had to execute his last resort. His mind almost panicked at the possible outcomes, but he remained constituted with the ideal that he must save his...dad...from the demise that is the goose's desolation! There was just no other choice. He had to _ask. Directly. _

"Um, dad?"

The goose somewhat jumped at Po's call, and stared up at the panda with his bulging eyes, immediately halting his nimble wings from cutting anymore vegetables. The panda was _almost _at an utter loss, after having seen the desperation manifest in his dad's face.

"Are you alright? I noticed you are feeling a bit...down today."

_Reveal yourself, monster!_

The goose darted his head back, his neck recoiling along with it, like a rope attached to a flying boulder, and was caught unexpectedly. The answer has already been prepared, Po knew. The goose had planned for this, to lure Po into asking _the question _with the inclined face of despair and the flagrancy of it. However, the goose couldn't seem to spit the words out. It was just _those_ particular words, in a particular order, that forced him to regurgitate his response and drown and rinse it completely in bird's saliva.

Finally did he answer: "Oh...it's just..."

The panda pressed forward with widened eyes, anticipating with slight uncertainty at what his dad was going to say, what it was that was bringing his customarily euphoric mood to the ground.

_Reveal yourself!  
><em>

"...it's just..."

_Reveal!_

"...ever since you have _even more _things to attend to, it has been getting a bit more lonely here in the kitchen..."

_AHA! I knew it all along! There was- Wait. What did he say? Loneliness? Oh, loneliness. _

The panda couldn't help but reassess the threat, measuring it, defining it, determining the severity of its crimes before mentally judging its fate. So, loneliness? That tormenting emotion that surged through its victims nerves like poison if indulged in potent amounts? Potent amounts indeed! His dad here was desperate, suffering from this...this...loneliness! Even if his most joyous, favored food fell to subject before his eyes: noodles! And even that wasn't enough to remedy the effects.

And why? Where did this...loneliness...come from? The panda reconsidered the sentence that was forcefully gutted out from the goose, and finally concluded its place of origin. _Himself. _It was because of the panda's absence, the space marooned by his exceeding inflated belly, that made his dad feel smaller, isolated in this horrible, horrible world, despite the presence of his ecstatic customers and the sensational smell and taste of his noodle soup!

A solution must be in order! However, one can't simply _fight the loneliness. _If it were a tangible, physical object that could be simply shooed away with the continuous barrage of raging kicks, or, perhaps, the Super Epic Combo of Fists and Feet of Fury (taught by Master Viper, somehow, without the required limbs) to quickly dismantle the opponent and reveal upon it the panda's mercy; only if it were _that, _then this task would be of paramount ease. However, such is not the case.

The circumstance brought to Po required a different answer, one that does not include the extreme defeat of his enemies followed by the mirthful celebration of his success. No, this is a more personal matter. Its substance cannot be conquered by anything in Po's current arsenal. No, he'll need help. He'll need an external factor, one that would turn the tables and end the gooses' loneliness' reign! A weapon, literal or metaphorical, of some sort that could serve as a catalyst to reestablish the prosperity that is the goose's!

But...where could this foreign asset be? There was definitely not one that instantly pops into the panda's mind that could be found in the general vicinity of the Valley of Peace...

His job got a whole lot harder, as it requires the probing and the ever-so-delicate inquest of possible subjects. There was no recklessness, no epicness to his new assignment. And the panda can't help but stress the fact that he had just approached an entirely new level of laborious disincentive, one that could occupy him from his preferred downtime of gobbling down entire feasts of food.

The plate of a Dragon Warrior was a big one to fill.

Hah, get it - plate?

* * *

><p><strong>AN: This is just a side-project, and is, by no means, the "other Dreamworks movie" project I mentioned in my profile, if you have read it at all. Anyways, take the time to leave a review and have a good day!<strong>


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